Alone I Break
by Lissa Roxford
Summary: She needed help and found him. He took her under his wing, protecting her. Neither of them thought love was possible. They were wrong.
1. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

**Chapter One - **Stranger Than You Dreamt It****

Elissa rushed across the pathway, stumbling slightly on the loose rocks. The lake seemed to stretch on forever. Who would have thought that a lake underneath an opera house would be so huge? She finally reached the end and whirled around, expecting to see Pierre still behind her. Gone. 

"I lost him," she realized with a sigh of relief. 

The edge of the enormous black lake ended at a small strip of land leading to a stone wall. Farther down, she could see a gate, covering a large wooden door. Elissa shrugged her shoulders. She had come this far, why not go the rest of the way. And it wasn't like she could turn around and go back. Not for awhile, at least. Cautiously, she crept forward across the rocky ground towards it, wincing as the sharp rocks poked at her bare feet. She had thrown off her heels in the chase, unable to run as fast as she needed to in them. 

Looking down, she almost laughed. She still wore her costume from the performance that night. She'd played a gypsy and the costume was a bit tight. She silently cursed the costume lady who, upon seeing Elissa before the performance, had pulled the costume as tight as it would go, saying it looked good. Well, it might have looked good, but it restricted her air and made her extremely light headed now especially after running through what felt like half the opera house. 

Studying the gate, she saw the lock was a strong one and almost let out a sigh of defeat before she brightened. She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, straightened it, and went to work. A minute later, she had the gate open and was opening the door and entering into the complete blackness. 

Elissa stumbled around the room, her arms held blindly in front of her. She could feel many things but she still did not know where she was. At last, her hands grabbed what she recognized to be a candlestick and she let out a sigh of relief. She fumbled in her skirt pocket for the pack of matches she always kept with her and tanked them our triumphantly. The first match burned all the way down to her fingers before she could find the wick. Biting back a cry of pain, she blew it out quickly and struck another match, this time light the candle. 

The candlelight slowly lit up the room, casting a warm glow. Looking around, she gasped. It was magnificent. Luxurious, stuffed furniture, a large maple bookcase filled with volumes, a grand fireplace, exotic piece scattered across the room and large paintings hung on the wall. Her toes dug into the plush carpet and she could feel the tension leaving her. 

Some door led ways out of the large room, but Elissa was too tires to try to find the contents hidden behind them. The opera performance had worn her out and the chase from Pierre had not helped one bit. Sinking down on the soft couch, her mind wandered absently. 

So the Phantom of the Opera did exist. She'd heard the stories since the moment she stepped foot inside the Paris Opera House, but had been unsure of whether or not to believe them. A ghost…living underneath the large building. She didn't know if she should be scared or not to be here, in the labyrinth. If only she wasn't so exhausted, she could think about this logically. 

Lying down, she closed her eyes, murmuring to herself sleepily. 

"Maybe he won't mind if I just take a quick nap. I'll be gone before he gets back and I'm so tired. I'll be gone…" her voice trailed off as she fell asleep, innocently lying in the phantom's lair. 


	2. Wandering Child

**Chapter Two- **Wandering Child****

Erik practically leapt from the boat as soon as it propped up against the shore, landing soundlessly on the ground. He'd seen the door open from farther back, an inner nagging letting him know something was wrong and where. His hand grabbed the Punjab lasso from inside his cloak, pulling it taut between both hands. As quiet and quick as a shadow, he slipped across the shore and pressed his back to the wall next to the door, listening for any sounds. But the sound of the blood rushing to his head was the only noise. Some scavenger, street rat or worse, someone seeking out him, was inside his house. And he would kill them. 

The room was dark save for one small candle lit beside the couch, the couch's back facing him. Still no sound or movement in this room. Switching the hand holding the Punjab, he stalked over to where the candle was and reached a hand to grab it but stopped short. For now he could see someone lying on the couch. With his eyes still on the person's form he slowly extended his hand and wrapped it around the candle, bringing it nearer to him. Stepping around the couch, he looked down to see who was lying there. 

A woman. A sharp intake of breath at this, he put the Punjab back in his cloak and knelt down to see better. The candle played gently across her face. Midnight black hair hung down her back, curling gently at the ends. She had smooth pale skin, full rose lips and tiny hands that lay on the cushion before her face like a child's would. She was dressed in a….Erik had to check again, sure he was wrong….gypsy's outfit. 

'A gypsy is in my house? Wait-' he realized she must have been in the performance tonight, the premiere of this opera. A chorus member dressed as a gypsy. He'd seen her tonight from his box. In fact, she rather struck him with her voice. He wasn't sure why he hadn't heard her before. It nearly took his breath away. His mind jerked back to the present. What was she doing in his house??!!

The anger that started to rise again was stopped when he realized something. She reminded him so much of that young girl at that gypsy camp so long ago. Marina. With her dark hair and soft brown eyes, she would sneak him extra food, an innocent child's smile or a small word of reassurance that it would be okay. She'd tried once to help him escape. The plan had failed but luckily they did not know it was her who had helped. He felt forever in her debt for her kindness. 

The woman on the couch, looking around nineteen, twenty years of age shifted a bit in her sleep startling him. Her right eyebrow seemed to frown with a small wrinkle denting it. He placed a light blanket over her, though later couldn't say what had compelled him to do so. He'd come in, hungry for blood, and he was trying to make sure now that she was comfortable. The wrinkle smoothed from her brow and she settled back into sleep. 

Erik stood over her for several more minutes contemplating what to do before he went and relocked the gate, shut his door and retreated to his library after he'd placed the candle back next to the couch. This could be taken care of when she awoke. Then he would find out how this woman had found her way to his house and gotten in and, most importantly, why. 


	3. Talk of Darkness

****

****

**Chapter Three : Talk of Darkness**

A little while later, Elissa started to wake up. Yawning, she stretched on the couch pointing her toes out and taking a deep breath and then relaxing, sinking back into the soft cushion. Opening her eyes slightly, she blinked a couple times with her mind wonderfully warm and fuzzy. Warm…she looked down to see a thick throw blanket lying on top of her. A blanket she was sure she had not put on herself. Confused, she raised her gaze and started when she saw the man sitting in the chair across from her, his dark eyes penetrating hers.

"Who are you?" he demanded, leaning forward in his chair. That voice…

"Elissa Daniela Alexandrie de Loncrae," she answered automatically, giving her full name.

"And WHAT are you doing in my home?" he asked now.

"I was…what a second…," she rubbed the side of her head, trying to clear her muddled mind.

The man's voice took on a certain soothing, musical quality that seemed to calm her," Now, my dear, I know you were not causing harm to anyone. Just please tell me how you came to be down here, so far beneath the opera house. You must be very tired, and the sooner you tell, the sooner you can rest again."

Elissa slowly sat up, wrapping the blanket around herself," Who are you?"

"Who is Pierre?" the man countered back forcefully.

Elissa drew a deep breath," How do you know of Pierre!"

"You talk in your sleep," the man answered simply.

Elissa sat on the couch, lost in thought or so it seemed. She slowly moved the afghan off of her and then in one swift motion, she was off the couch and bolting for the door. She had not opened the door but three inches when Erik placed his palm flat on it above her head and shut it firmly. Her chest heaving with panicked breaths, she turned only to find his body inches away from hers, straightened to his full height and his face –well, mask- was leaned down to stare down at her. She hadn't even heard him behind her. Her mind flew from one idea to another, trying to find her a way out of this.

"You will tell me," Erik said firmly, steel underlying his voice.

Elissa sighed. There seemed to be no winning against that voice. "But I'm not supposed to," she said quietly, giving up fighting him. She took her hand off the door handle and he took a step back away from her, but kept one hand on the door. Looking up, she finally got a good look at him. He was much taller than her 5'6" and had thick black hair that flopped over a bit onto his mask and crystal blue eyes with amber flecks that glared at her. As Erik stared down at her, he went still for a second upon seeing her eyes turn up to him. Wide cerulean blue eyes with violet around the pupil and jade flecks spotted. Very interesting. Very interesting indeed.

"And why are you not, mademoiselle?" he said softly, hoping to calm her enough so that she would talk.

Her chin lifted up a fraction of an inch and her eyes narrowed slightly," If I tell you, may I leave, Monsieur?"

He nodded," Of course," and extended one arm out gracefully towards the couch and chair," Shall we sit?"

She nodded and walked past him and sat on the edge of the couch, fixing her skirts fretfully and staring down at her hands nervously. When she saw him rest down onto the chair before her, she jerked her head up and tried to compose herself, not wanting the man to see her so anxious. She cleared her throat, placed her hands on her lap and looked into the man's face…well, mask. "I traveled from Poland a month ago. My train was delayed so I arrived the day after the auditions were held for singers. Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre were not going to allow me to audition late but I either convinced them to let me, or they just grew annoyed with my arguments. Whatever the case, they did hear me sing and they gave me a spot in the chorus."

"The managers have made it a point to not accept late entries," Erik informed her. He then added, almost to himself," You must have a rather exceptional voice to have convinced them otherwise." He wandered how all this had happened and he had not known. True, he had been distracted these past few weeks with the sudden surge of creativity pushing his composing, but still. He WAS the opera's ghost. So odd he had not seen all of this. He'd seen this girl before. Rushing to practice, picking up her cloak from a back room and entering a dressing room. But he'd never pursued these short glances of her, though he'd had to push away disconcerting thoughts to do so.

Elissa just shrugged her slim shoulders before continuing. "After a rather late practice last week, I returned to my dressing room. A man by the name of Pierre Cartier came to my room and offered to accompany me to dinner. I declined because it was late and I did not think it wise to go out with a man I did not know." Erik nodded at that last part. "He came by a couple of days later and I was so tired, and worried about hurting his feelings by sending him away again that I agreed."

Erik's thoughts paused as he remembered seeing this girl in the hallway walking with this man one night. Elissa continued, "Dinner was pleasant enough, but tense. He made me uncomfortable."

"How so?" Erik asked, leaning forward in his chair a little.

She frowned slightly, motioning with her hand in the air as though to find the words to describe it. "Just…the way he kept looking at me. Curiously and, at the same time, as though he knew me. Sometimes when I would look over, I thought he looked angry about something. And some of the things he said. He asked about my childhood and, as I told him of it, he would add little things to what I said. Things about my childhood that were true. Things I had not told him, and he could not possibly have known. I was confused and cautious, so I ended the night and took a carriage back to the opera."

He nodded, it had been the smart thing to do. "Perhaps the man had known you when you were younger?" he suggested.

Elissa gave him a bewildered look," But I've never seen him before in my life!"

"This still does not explain how you came to be here tonight," he pointed out.

Her eyes narrowed," Well, that's because I haven't gotten to that yet. If you were a tad bit patient, I could."

"Mademoiselle, YOU are trying my patience!" he rose from the chair and stood towering over her. "What you need-"

"If you would just sit down, I will tell you!" she exclaimed, slight anger flashing in her eyes. A little surprised at her boldness, he reluctantly sat back down and motioned for her to continue. "Well," she started, shifting in her seat," where was I? Oh, yes. Well, for the past few days, he's been showing up everywhere. At the market, after practice, at restaurants. Tonight when I returned to my dressing room after the premiere, he was sitting in my dressing room waiting for me."

"How did he get in?" Erik wanted to know.

Elissa looked somewhat embarrassed, "The lock for my door has not been installed yet. The managers keep saying they'll tell someone to do it."

Now that wasn't smart at all, he thought. Anyone could just waltz in this girl's room while she was not there, or actually walk in on her.

"I told him that it had been a lovely dinner, but I did not wish to see him again. He started pacing angrily and calling me…names. I was confused as to why he was so upset; it had been but one dinner, and a dreadful one at that. I told him I had to leave, so he had to leave my dressing room. Really, I wasn't, though. I sleep in that room. But that just made him angrier and, when I tried to walk out, he grabbed my arm and jerked me back to him, saying I wasn't going anywhere. He scared me so I pulled my arm back and ran. I kept running and running and the next thing I knew, I was underneath the opera house."

Could she have accidentally gone through one of the secret passages? He wondered.

"I was so tired from the running, the adrenaline had worn off, and short of breath because of that wretched costume lady, that I just wanted to lie down. So when I came upon this place and got inside-"

"And how did you get inside?"

"Oh." She didn't look embarrassed as she informed him," I picked the lock."

"You what? The actual door is hidden! And that lock is very old and intricate. How did you?"

She just shrugged. "I laid down, meaning only to rest for a bit, but I accidentally fell asleep. And that's it!" she exclaimed, spreading her hands out before hopping up off the couch. "And now I will be leaving! Good evening, Monsieur." She started to walk towards the door, but Erik stood up. "Wait a minute, child!"

Elissa turned, slightly bristling from the term 'child'. "Yes?"

"Where will you go now?" he asked.

"To my room," Elissa asked as though stating the obvious.

"And what if he is still there?"

That stumped her. She frowned, murmering to herself, "I really hadn't thought of that. But surely he wouldn't be…well, he DID just chase me through half the opera house. I really don't know what he'll do. But where else would I go? I live in that room. I couldn't afford a flat. Now what do I-"

"Mademoiselle?" Erik interrupted politely. She thought she'd been quiet, and she had, but he had heard everything.

She turned around, looking quite perplexed, those gorgeous eyes of hers troubled. "Yes?"

He spoke before he thought it out, because if he had thought it out, he never would have said it. "There is a spare room down here. If you wish, you may sleep in it tonight, under my watch, and I'll take you back tomorrow. I would also like to give you voice lessons and hear that wonderful voice of yours."

Her mind lulled by the sound of his voice, she barely heard the part about the voice lessons and instead asked quietly, "Under your watch?"

He nodded firmly, "Yes. While you are down here, you are under my protection, and nothing and no one shall harm you. You can sleep peacefully tonight." Elissa was a bit overwhelmed by this and studied him carefully for a whole minute while she decided. She didn't really know this man, but she sensed the sincerity in what he'd said and found him honorable. She would sleep peacefully tonight. And tomorrow, she would go back to her room, hopefully Pierre-free by then, and this man wanted to give her voice lessons.

"Voice lessons?" she asked him.

Erik started a bit at her thoughtful tone. He hadn't really thought she would consider it, or agree to it. Why would she want to stay here with him? His reason for asking was quite simple. She needed help and protection and he would give it to her. "Yes," he answered her.

Her face broke out into a brilliant smile which she bestowed upon him, "Well, it seems, Monsieur, we have a deal. And you may call me Elissa."

"And you may call me Erik."


	4. Sculpted Angels

**Chapter Four :   **Sculpted Angels****

Elissa had woken to find the shoes she'd thrown off in the chase lined up carefully next to her bed. Well, the bed she'd spent the night in. After graciously saying she could stay down here, he'd shown her to the extra bedroom.  He'd also given her something to sleep and sent her, while she was thanking him profusely, to bed. On the chair next to the shoes now lay a simple light blue dress. She didn't know where or how'd he'd gotten it but was touched by the simple gesture. 

She dressed before going out of the room. She folded the costume over her arms, chewing her bottom lip and feeling suddenly out of place. Her feet were tapping on the floor of the foyer nervously and she took a deep breath to center herself and calm down. She watched Erik draw his cloak around his shoulders and set the black fedora on top of his head. The mask hid in the shadows of the hat but when he turned to look at her, she saw the golden glow of his eyes through the shadow. 

"Are you ready?" he asked, knocking her out of her daze. She nodded and they left the house and walked in silence back to the lake. She started to realize that, even though there'd been so much catastrophe before she'd even gotten down here, she'd just spent the night in some strange man's home. And this strange man was supposedly the Opera Ghost. She couldn't believe she'd done that. Under no other circumstances…why had he let her stay in his home? The Opera Ghost, the Phantom…she'd heard the ballet girls talking about him. But he hadn't hurt her; he was going to help her. But all the stories…she shook her head firmly. She should really just concentrate on what she really knew and what she felt. First to get rid of Charles, then it would be okay. 

They approached the boat and he stepped in expertly, the boat barely rocking from his experience. He turned and looked at her and a look of what seemed to be hesitancy, a tad of frustration, flashed in his eyes before he extended a gloved hand towards her to assist her. Elissa wrapped her pale small hand around his large strong one and stepped gingerly into the boat, giving him a tiny smile and murmured," Thank you."

 Once she was seated he let go abruptly and turned his back to her, and began to oar across the black lake. Elissa, caught up in her thoughts, was not bothered by the oppressive silence. She frowned to herself. Carlotta did not like her. While Carlotta did not really like anyone, she had taken a particular distaste to the new chorus member. She bit her lip, wishing rehearsal would come quickly today. She didn't like being in her dressing room, anxiously dreading Pierre's return. 

"Are you coming, mademoiselle?" Erik's voice startled her out of her reverie. She looked up to see that they had not stopped at the other side and he stood on the ground next to the boat, looking down at her, curiously. Elissa blushed, embarrassed, and stood. "Yes, of course. Excuse me." As they weaved through the winding passages, Elissa started shivering from the cold in the damp cellars. Erik stopped so suddenly she nearly stumbled to avoid running into him. Looking up, her mouth slightly open to ask why they had stopped, he pulled off his heavy black velvet cloak, flipped it around and wrapped her shoulders swiftly. 

"You don't need to-"she started to protest but he cut her off sternly. 

"Do not argue with me. It is pointless. You need to stay warm so you don't get sick. If you are sick, you cannot sing. Understand?" 

"Yes," she muttered, feeling like she'd been scolded. She pulled the edge of the cloak around her and immediately found comfort in its warmth. "Thank you," she added sincerely. A nod was the only response before he turned and they continued walking. The second time he stopped, she was more prepared and she watched as he raised his hand and touched a small section of the stone wall. After a second, a ceiling high section slid open to reveal a small props room which she stepped into. She unfastened his cloak and handed it back to him. 

"I don't know how to get back down," she told him, wandering how she would ever be able to find her way through all the passages. Erik stared at her, still standing in the dark passage and she reminded him," My singing lesson…?"  He didn't move but said after a tension filled minute," I will come for you directly after the performance in your dressing room." Elissa didn't ask how he knew what dressing room she had, just like she didn't ask how he knew what time her practice was. She gave a little curtsy, smiled and said," 'Til tonight."

----`--{@

He hadn't thought she would've taken his hand. He'd waited for the look of disgust to cross her face, for her to cringe back at even the thought of touching him. But she hadn't, hadn't even seemed uncomfortable or repulsed as anyone else would've been. He shook his head angrily at himself, turning down the next tunnel. What was he thinking? She'd probably just been eager to leave. That didn't explain her reminding him about the voice lessons. She most likely just felt likely. He really had little hope she would see him as anything but a monster living underneath the opera house. Goddammit, then why was he doing this?! With a sigh, he headed towards the passageway that led him to the catwalks to watch the rehearsals. Time to watch the child sing. 

----`--{@

Elissa got to practice 15 minutes early and began to do ballet stretches. The part she had dances and sang. Nadine, another chorus member, hurried over to her, her long blond hair flying behind. 

"Elissa!" she whispered urgently. Elissa stopped misstep and looked up. "Yes?"

Nadine looked around quickly," Carlotta's on a warpath."

"Oh, is that all?" Elissa asked, relieved. "She always is."

"No, not like this. She thinks you showed her up last night. She's furious."

"Great," she muttered, standing up straight as she saw Carlotta parade into the room, the sputtering managers right on her heels. 

"You!" the diva shouted, pointing one finger at Elissa. "Yes?" Elissa asked calmly, smoothing her skirt with her hands. 

"How dare you try to upstage me, you impetuous twit!" Carlotta insulted, standing on the stage now, her hands on her generous hips. Elissa's eyes flashed, her back suddenly rigid. "No one upstages Carlotta," she continued ranting," and especially not some NOBODY-"rage was forming in Elissa's head-"with an EMPTY head-"he body started to tingle-" and NO TALENT!"

**"STOP NOW!!!!" Elissa screamed out at the last part and brought her right arm up to the ceiling and then down towards the floor in one sharp motion. A split second later, a large scenery board fell from the rafters, broken from the ropes and landed on the stage directly behind Carlotta. It tipped over and fell right on the Prima Donna. Pandemonium broke out. Everyone rushed over to try and lift the board off the unconscious diva; someone shouted for someone to get a doctor. The ballet dancers huddled together, whispering hurriedly amongst eachother about the Opera Ghost. Nadine had stopped and was staring at Elissa with a strange look in her eyes. **

----`--{@

Erik had seen the girl with the blonde hair, Nadine, rush over to Elissa and whisper urgently to her. It wasn't but a few seconds later that that painted cow, Carlotta, came storming in with those buffoons of managers hurrying after her. Carlotta started screaming at Elissa about upstaging her. Erik had seen what had happened at the last night's performance; Carlotta had missed her cue, Elissa had covered for her- it was merely for a few seconds, but Carlotta was steaming. 

His eyes narrowed angrily at the insults the diva spewed at the innocent Elissa and he was running silently down the catwalk, his eyes still staring at the pair,  when he heard Elissa's scream and saw her raise and arm and bring it down in a  swift cutting motion. And then the large scenery board directly to Erik's left ripped free from it's restraints and went hurtling down to fall on Carlotta. He stopped and took a step back in surprise, looking around quickly to make sure no one else was up there. 

Everyone on the stage was shouting and panicing and running all about, trying to help. But Elissa stood stock still, pale faced and with her eyes impossibly wide, covering her mouth with a hand. He took a closer look at the restraints. There was nothing wrong with the pulley or any of the chains. The metal 'bites' that bit into the edge of the rope to keep it above ground were not old or damaged. It literally looked like the board had been pulled with superhuman strength right out of them. But that was impossible, nobody could…he touched one of the bites and was surprised to find it hot. 

When he looked down again, Elissa was gone.

----`--{@

She sank to the ground, staring out at the city. The roof was deserted and she huddled against the base of a massive angel statue and wrapped her arms around herself to keep herself from shaking so much. She could still feel the immense heat that ripped through her body when she threw her hand up. In her mind's eye, she'd seen the rope yank out of the restraints and then the board had come impossibly careening down to the stage. The look on Carlotta's face…the look on NADINE"S face! Elissa could only being to guess what she was thinking. This was not good. 

She stared up at the face of the stone angel, compassionate and honor clad. "I'm sorry. It was an accident."

----`--{@

The performance went off without a hitch and, save the moments of worry about that afternoon, Elissa performed wonderfully. Carlotta's understudy played her part and the audience seemed to accept her, though they whispered amongst themselves as to where the Prima Donna was. Anticipation went through her at the thought of her singing lesson with Erik tonight. She hoped she did well. He was the Opera Ghost? But he wasn't an actual ghost; he was real. And she couldn't understand why she trusted him much, she'd never trusted a man as much as she trusted him.  

Confused, she just shook her head as she headed towards her room hurriedly, past the performers and suiters flooding the hallways. Safe in her room, she turned to shut the door and stopped, puzzled. Three- THREE- sturdy locks were now on her door. Had the managers finally had them put on? Wait, she'd told Erik about the locks. She had a weird feeling that he was responsible for this. And she smiled as she locked them all, changed quickly behind the screen and grabbed her cloak. 

A singing voice slowly wound its way into her room and to her ear and she look around amazed. It was truly more beautiful than anything she'd ever heard. The wordless song calmed her nerves and she looked on as the mirror seemed to suddenly dissipate and Erik stood in its place, looking truly elegant and regal as he stood in the half dark.

He extended one arm to her," Shall we?"

A slight blush rushed to her cheeks, unbeknownst to her, and she shyly walked up to him. Looking up at him trustingly, she placed one palm over his and let him lead her into the passage, the mirror silently swinging shut behind them as he led her down to this home underneath the opera. 

Back in the room, a knock broke the empty silence of the room. The knob turned but the locks prevented the door from opening. "Elissa, are you there?" Pierre asked. 


	5. Why Can't the Past Just Die?

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**Chapter Five : **Why Can't the Past Just Die?****

Erik let the last note drip from the organ pipes before lifting his hands from the ivory keys. Elissa waited with flushed cheeks, her chest rising and falling quickly with the exertion. Sweat tinged her brow and a sense of excitement made her grin in satisfaction. But she waited for him to turn around, somewhat nervous of his reaction. He'd expected her to do well, since she'd been allowed to audition late, but what if what she had wasn't good enough, what he'd expected. She knew in the back of her mind it was silly to care so much about one person's opinion of her, but she held her breath in anticipation until he spoke. 

She felt like she'd sang better for him just now, with his instructions, than she ever had.  Curling his fingers into his palm, he turned and stared at her for a moment with absolutely no emotion. Afraid for a moment he was displeased, her shoulders sagged, but he said slowly in that melodious voice of his, "Mademoiselle, that was truly…exquisite. I feel confident that we can smooth a few rough spots, though, and increase your range. Before long, you will be able to sing more powerfully and angelically than ever before."

The breath she'd been holding rushed from her lips in a relieved sigh, her shoulders relaxing. Eyes bright, she gasped, "Do you really think I can get better?" The idea of being able to sing better, possibly being able to show off her talents made her smile happily. 

Erik felt the corners of his lips twitch, trying to smile, but he stopped himself and nodded, "Yes, I think so. Who were you taught by before, dear?"

"I used to sing at fairs and at the market back in Ostroda- back in Poland- and eventually joined the church choir so that I could be instructed by the teacher there. Madame de Loncrae, the woman that raised me, later allowed me to attend a tutor twice a week for singing lessons." 

He paused, thinking of her referring to Madame de Loncrae just as the person who'd raised her. Surely she meant her mother, right? Did they not have a good relationship and that was where this distant reference came from. His eyes narrowed. He knew somewhat of bad relationships with mothers. 

"Madame de Loncrae, she was your mother, then?" he asked smoothly, rising gracefully from the piano bench. 

"Oh. No, she was not my mother. She raised me, though," Elissa said, the smile gone from her face, looking quite tense he noticed. He didn't want to attribute to her sudden edginess but his curiosity bade to question more. Swallowing back to questions that expected answers he shouldn't want if she was just a mere pupil, he instead offered her a glass of water which she accepted graciously. 

The following silence calmed her down a bit. Thoughtfully, he looked at her carefully as he asked casually, "How odd, that accident today at rehearsal. That that board fell so suddenly."

She froze for a second, fear passing through her eyes for a split second, but he saw it. Nodding she said delicately, not looking him in the eyes, "Yes, how very odd." 

He studied her face for a minute longer as she stared down into her glass anxiously. Finally he nodded," Shall we get you back up to your room now? You will be needing your sleep."

And just like that, she felt the fatigue from the day creeping up on her and nodded at his request. She wished the past would stay in the past, where it should. But she had a horrible feeling of foreboding that it would not. 

----`--{@

That night, Elissa fell sleep in her dressing room with a blissful smile on her face. She couldn't believe how well things were going now. She'd been feeling scared and discouraged ever since she'd started in the chorus and Pierre had come. The night she'd run through the underground tunnels away from him, she'd felt complete despair. Then this man took it upon himself to watch over her, to help her in her singing and give her the only source of safety and comfort she had. She'd been quite miserable for some time, but now things were finally starting to brighten. This man of shadows was her angel, her angel of darkness. 

Erik himself had tried to keep busy after she'd left but had nevertheless found himself arriving at the spot directly behind her mirror, staring into the pitch black room and seeing exactly where everything was. Elissa lay curled up asleep underneath the thick blankets that he assumed she must have brought with her because of the delicate hand stitched designs on it that suggested it had been homemade, rather than store bought.  He opened the mirror and stepped into the room, his cloak swirling around him silently. 

First he checked the door to make sure the locks on the door were locked. They were. Turning back towards the bed, he stared at her for a moment before slowly resting in the chair next to her bed. Her black hair was fanned out across the pillow and her soft pink lips were parted slightly in her sleep into a small smile, breathing deeply in and out. He suddenly felt anger towards any young men that had the joy of being able to look at this beautiful woman and have her look back shyly, to blush a little at the attention. He would never have that. 

His fist curled tightly, wanting to hit something, but after watching her sleep a few more minutes, the anger calmed. He reached out on hand to the side of her face, held it there hovering there for a second before snatching it back and whipping out of the chair and towards the mirror. He shouldn't still be here; he'd made sure she was safe asleep, which was all he'd really meant to do. With one last look around the room, he exited and stalked back down to his lair. 

----`--{@

The next day, Elissa was in a wonderful mood. With the memories of last night with Erik and the absence of Pierre all day, she found herself in an almost giddy mood all day. Even Nadine commented on the fact that she looked happier than she'd ever seen her and begged to know what had happened to make her so joyous. But Elissa had not uttered a word about the voice lessons or Erik, an unspoken agreement between Erik and her that she meant to keep. Whatever it was, it kept a dreamy, wide smile on her face for most of the day. 

And her voice HAD already improved, just with the few breathing exercised Erik had had her practice last night. Monsieur Andre had even complimented her on her solo part, a praise that kept her floating all the way back to her dressing room. Humming a little tune to herself, she changed into one of her many plain dresses and shoes, planning on doing a little shopping before she had to be back. A knock on the door didn't interrupt her humming and she unlocked the door, opening it without a thought. 

"Nadine, I really think-" the words died in her throat as she found herself staring up into Pierre's dark, almost black eyes. Automatically, she tried to shut the door again, as though if she could not see him, he was not there. But he reached a hand out and grabbed the edge of the door, pushing it open. Suddenly fearful under his dark gaze, she took a step back. A mistake on her part, because it allowed him to step inside. 

Swallowing, she tried to regain control of herself. He couldn't frighten her unless she let him. And she didn't intend to be intimidated any longer. She could stand up to him, though she suddenly wished Erik was here. "Pierre, how delightfully wonderful to see you," she said politely and impersonably. "I was just on my way out, so if you could just excuse me…" She went to step past him but he grabbed her arm before she could. His entire hand could wrap around the entire circumference of her lower arm, she thought idly in the back of her mind. Staring up at him, once more, she straightened her back, prepared to fight. 

"Release my arm, Monsieur," she said, her voice cold as ice. He did, but did not move to allow her to pass.

"Elissa, my dear, we need to talk," he said softly, his gaze unnervingly holding hers. 

"Monsieur-"

"Pierre. Call me Pierre," he insisted. 

She gave him a hard look before continuing," Monsieur, I have nothing to discuss with you. The other night was a catastrophe and I am ashamed to have let it get that far when I never should have let someone like you escort me anywhere. You had absolutely no right to say the things you did. If I feel ashamed, you should feel downright mortified of your own actions towards a lady. I do not wish to see you again and I would like if you would leave me alone."

There. She'd said it. She held her breath, a mixture of pride for herself and anxiousness of how he might react making her hands shake at her sides. For a long time, he just stared down at her, his dark whirlpool eyes drowning any emotions he might be feeling. His body was tense with anger, though, and she took a step back, not wanting to be so close to him. 

A minute more of that silence, so oppressing and suffocating that it made her want to scream. Before she could, though, he tilted his head his eyes narrowed a bit. "As you wish, Mademoiselle. I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable. Everything must be perfect for Little Lissy."

"I- what?" she said, breathless, feeling like she'd been physically struck with the words. Little Lissy. Bedtime stories, hugs and kisses, love and warmth. Her father. She was his Little Lissy. Had been. What had happened. What had- She gasped loudly and shoved past him through the doorway in a very undefined manner and took off running down the hallway. She didn't see her surroundings, was only aware of the aching in her chest, the pains of her heart as she remembered what she had forgotten, repressed, since the age of six. Too young for such tragedy, she'd been, and she'd locked the bad memories away.

Little Lissy. 

She didn't know if he was behind her, didn't care. She just knew where she had to go. Sobs tore at her throat, unnoticed by her, though. Eyes blurry with tears, she ran almost blindly towards that small props room where she knew that secret panel was. Her mind hurt to think of it, pain coursing through her that had so long been locked up but had now exploded into an agonizing torrent of anguish. She ran her hands clumsily over the panel before it slid open and then had started to cry even harder when she realized she had to close it again. She just wanted to get down there as fast as she could. 

When it was finally closed, she whirled around and ran into the darkness, one hand on the wall to guide her and to hold her up and she felt her legs trembling beneath her, the intense pains in her chest every time she took a breath. But she didn't know where to go, she got lost. As soon as she realized this, she sank to the ground in a heap or skirt and tears, sobbing into the dark. She'd once been Little Lissy. But Little Lissy had died. Just like her father. The emotional pain was too much for her to handle and she let out an agonizing, heart wrenching scream that traveled down the passage, echoed against the stone wall, over the water and into the phantom's house beyond the lake. 


	6. Prison of My Mind

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**Chapter Six : **Prison of My Mind****

The world was a bleak, abysmal void that had her falling hard into it's murky depths. The tendrils of despair curled over her and pulled her down. Elissa's head was bent back from the force of her scream, trying to let out all the pain and anguish that had suddenly come rushing back into a mind not ready to deal with it. Sobbing, she bowed her head into her hands and trembled from the edges of her soft hair to the tips of her toes. And just like that, the black cloud descended on her once again, enclosing her in the chest of hopelessness and loneliness. Through the anguish, she heard a loud, hoarse sound and realized she was screaming still. 

Pieces of stone and sifts of dust came falling from the ceiling. The walls were shaking and bursts of heat shook her body.  Her chest burned and she realized vaguely the great aching every time she took a shuddering breath. Rocking back and forth, she stared blankly at the shadows in front of her and started all of a sudden, seeing a large building on fire in her mind. 

What felt like an eternity was actually only a few moments before Erik was next to her. He felt a sudden jerk in his chest as he saw her curled up on the floor in pain, crying out in emotional sorrow. He wasted no time picking her up, cradling her like a child against his chest, and rushing back to his lair. She turned her head and buried her face into his chest, surprising him. He laid her gently on the pillows on the bow of the boat, regretting making her feel alone for the precious minutes it took for him to row across the lake. What worried him was that she had not stopped crying yet and was clutching her chest in what seemed like physical pain. Hurriedly, he carried her inside his lair and laid her gently on the bed in her room- he had started considering it her room. She had stopped screaming, though, but her breathing was shallow and ragged. He sat next to her on the bed, looking down at her anxiously as his mind raced trying to figure out what to do.

 He eyes switched to his suddenly and she say up quickly, pleading, "Go to the opera staircase. Please!!"

 "Why? Who's there?" he sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing.

 She shook her head frantically. "No, the chandelier there just crashed. Go make sure no one got hurt." 

He didn't answer, wondering how she would know this. "Please!" she begged him and he nodded and stood. "Stay here," he ordered, "and don't let anyone in." He started to walk away but turned around again, "And don't move. Stay…there." He didn't want to leave her for long so he hurried to the opening to the opera foyer. Sneaking in, he blended in to the shadows and watched the people regarding the crash with puzzlement and anger. Firmin and Andre were there, of course, looking equally annoyed and talking about cost. Crystal pieces were strewn across the marble floor, glinting in the light like teardrops. 

Without warning the walls of the room started to shake. Erik looked around sharply while the other men tried to balance themselves, startled. Bits of the ceiling fell to the floor, a painting was heard crashing on the floor above them, and outside and tremendous crash shook the ground as the giant stone angel fell from the roof and was pitched down onto the road below. A spread out pile of broken stone and a single wing not damaged lay on top. A crack began to form in the ceiling and Erik's eyes narrowed. Somehow, someway, Elissa was breaking apart his opera house. He paused for a moment. Elissa herself was breaking apart. With that thought circling his mind, he went back through the secret entrance and ran soundlessly back to his lair 

Elissa had stayed where he'd told her to but now sat on her knees, bent over in agony with her fingers buried in her hair. Raw screams tore from her throat as tears ran quickly down from her clenched eyes. Her body trembled violently and she felt like she was on fire. Images from her childhood snapped through her mind; sudden, horrible realizations became aware to her. Her head hurt terribly, aching from remembering and a searing, choking pain went through her chest with every scream, but she could not stop. 

Suddenly, two hands her on her shoulders, pushing her firmly back onto the bed. Her screams turned to sobs and a familiar gloved hand brushed the hair out of her face before pressing a bottle to her lips, urging her to drink. Without thought, she automatically opened her mouth and drank the contents of the vial. She took a shuddering breath after she swallowed and sank back into the soft mattress. The sobs stopped. Opening her teary eyes, she looked despondently up at Erik who was sitting on the bed next to her and holding an empty bottle. The liquid inside was a concoction he'd made that would calm her and cause her to go to sleep very soon. 

"I never asked Madame de Loncrae what had happened to my parents," she said sadly. "She never told me. I always thought it quite strange that I had no memories of my childhood before I was six. I couldn't remember a thing. But tonight…he called me Little Lissy…" her voice trailed off, a glazed look in her eyes. 

"Who did? Who called you that?" Erik asked, wanting to know the reason behind this. 

"My father used to call me Little Lissy…"

"Who called you it, Elissa?"

She focused on him again, tilting her head a bit, "Pierre did."

Erik leaned forward, wanting to catch this bit of information before she slipped into the quickly approaching sleep, "How did Pierre know what your father used to call you, my dear?"

Her eyes then looked painfully sad, as though saying it made it even more unbearable than just knowing it. Looking down for a moment, she gazed blankly at her hands before looking back up at him. He took one of her hands in his, hoping it would make it easier for her. But nothing could have prepared him for what she said next. 

"Because Pierre killed my father."

The liquid overtook her then and she slipped into unconsciousness, her face still wet with tears, and leaving Erik to stare at her and let what she'd just said sink in. 


	7. That Man and Mystery

****

****

**Chapter Seven : That Man and Mystery **

The candlelight showed dimly only a few feet and beyond that the room was shadowed into blackness, giving her the sense that her surroundings faded into oblivion. Elissa looked up at the dark over her bed. A black cloud resting over her. How appropriate, she thought. It was the next afternoon and she had not moved from the bed since she had wakened up. With the awakened memories of her childhood before she'd had to go live with Madame de Loncrae, and the newfound information about Pierre, her mind was quite drained and it took awhile to figure out what she should do now. 

Erik had come into her room earlier. She'd felt his presence as he'd come in and silently set a tray of food on the table beside the bed, next to the candle. Elissa had stared upwards blankly, no moving or saying a word as she still wanted time to sort out her thoughts. She heard his sigh before he left the room, closing the door gently behind him. With a sigh of her own Elissa sat up, crossed her legs, slouched over and looked glumly around. As easy as it would be to stay longer in the dark chill of her tormented thoughts, she knew she had to come up with some solution. 

She grabbed a piece of toast off the tray and started to nibble at it as she thought and was surprised to discover how hungry she was. After she'd finished the rest of the toast, the fruit and the glass of water, she stepped out of the bed with a new determined look in her eyes. She straightened her dress, ran a small brush through her hair, washed her face with the water in a small basin and dried it and then strode out of the room. Erik stepped into her path as she headed straight towards his room. 

"Where are you going?" he asked mildly, blocking her way to his bedroom.  

"Ah, there you are," she said, pleased. "I need to leave now."

Erik didn't say anything, but stared down at her waiting for an explanation. Realizing he wanted more details, she added," I have to travel." Then she looked off in thought, "I wonder when the train leaves. Too far to walk obviously. Definitely need a schedule for the trains; that would help."

"Elissa, come into the library with me," Erik said finally, holding her arm as he turned her around and led her into the library. The fire in the fireplace crackled and warmed the room. He guided her to a seat and walked over to the desk before turning to look at her. "Now, if you would be so kind, can you explain to WHAT is going on?" His voice was calm on the surface but anger was creeping out right below that. 

"What's going on?" she repeated. 

"Yes…"

"Oh, about Claude," she nodded, understanding. 

"Claude?" he stared at her for a few seconds confused, "Who the hell is Claude?"

"Claude is Pierre," she informed him. Just as he was about to explode with frustration at her, she continued. "Claude Rouland is Pierre's real name. When I was little, I lived with my father in a small apartment building- my mother had died before I could remember her. There was a boy in the flat above ours, Claude Rouland. He lived with his uncle, who, if I remember correctly, enjoyed the drink a little too much. On the after noon of my sixth birthday, I ran to the park two streets away when my father lay down to take a nap. I wanted to go by myself; I wanted to feel grown up. I was so engrossed in playing that I stayed there for longer than I should have and when I finally looked up at the sky I saw smoke rising. I ran home and saw the building on fire. The fire seemed so loud…I stood on the sidewalk in my birthday dress with my hands over my ears, screaming for my father. The fire had killed him."

She paused and Erik let himself digest this information before asking," But you said that Pie- Claude had killed your father."

"Claude set the fire."

"He set the fire on purpose? At the age of- how old was he?"

"Eight."

"Why would he set the building on fire?" he asked, thinking she might have been wrong about Claude killing her father. Surely an eight year old little boy…but Erik remembered himself at the age of eight. 

"I don't know. I remember the police found evidence in the Rouland flat that let them know Claude had done it. His uncle had also been killed in the fire, as well as several other tenants. Most, though, had been able to escape it. One of the women who had survived, Madame de Loncrae, took me in and raised me as her daughter. She never told me what had happened to my father after it was discovered that I'd made myself forget it. Repressed it. Until last night when it came back rather violently as you saw."

Erik nodded. It must have been quite painful to suddenly remember in detail the horrible death of her father. She'd nearly brought down the opera house with her in her agony. Which brought him to another question. "Elissa…the scenery falling, the angel statue from the roof, the chandelier in the lobby…that was you, wasn't it?"

She licked her lips nervously before nodding.

"How?"

She shrugged," I don't know. Just that, for as long as I can remember, stuff like that has happened when intense emotions come over me. I don't know why. It's hard to control, but sometimes I can."

"What will we do now? Now that you know the truth about Claude and what happened, I mean. It is obvious Claude must pay for what he has done."

Elissa was momentarily distracted that he'd asked what 'we' should do. She thought he'd be eager to see her leave after last night. "I need to go back to Ostroda as soon as possible. To talk with Madame de Loncrae and find my father's grave." She lowered her eyes respectfully at the last part. 

"And then, about Claude?" he inquired, not noting the exclusion. 

She looked at him then with ruthless, unwavering eyes, a smile curling her lips," I'm going to kill him." She said it so calmly and intentionally and his first thought was that she wasn't kidding around. While he would have killed Claude for her without a second thought after what he'd just learned, that she was so exacting and purposeful about it threw him for a bit of a loop. But he nodded. In Elissa's mind it was the logical thing to do. Claude had killed her father, and, therefore, Claude must be killed also to bring justice to it. Prison for him would not satisfy her. 

"The midnight train leaves to Poland. You'd best start packing," Erik said before turning and leaving the room, leaving Elissa to stare at his retreating back and then at the fire when she could no longer see him. 

"You thought you could hide, Claude," she murmured, staring at the flames, "but death rides the wind towards you."


	8. Secretly Dreams of Beauty

Chapter Eight : Secretly Dreams of Beauty  
  
When Elissa left Erik's house, he was not there. Dressed warmly and cloaked, holding her bags in her hands, she walked slowly around the house looking for him. Part of her still hoped he would come with her, but the knowledge that he would not left her steps trudged and made her shoulders fall in defeat when she at last walked silently and alone through the gate. But she raised her chin, defying her sadness with her newly renewed strength. She could do this on her own; maybe it was better this way. A future image of Pierre, dead and glazed eyes wide and unseeing, flashed through her mind and she shuddered before pushing it away.  
  
The porter at the train station graciously helped her with her bags and led her to her small room. When he inquired good-naturally to her destination, she just smiled sweetly and answered she was visiting relatives. With a nod and a glance around, he wished her a comfortable trip and left. Elissa sat down on the chair next to the window and watched as the trees began to move backwards and the station disappeared from view. She rested her head against the cool glass, staring out at the dark sky for awhile before closing her eyes.  
  
**Dream**  
  
"Elissa, dear, it's such a nice day. Wouldn't you like to play at the park with the other children?" Madame de Loncrae asked Elissa gently. The little seven year old girl looked over at her from the window with her multicolored, innocent eyes, her black hair in two braids, and her face lit up.  
  
"Will you come with me?" she asked hopefully.  
  
Madame shook her head slowly, "No, Elissa. I don't think that would be wise. There are some people that..." she didn't finish the sentence but instead touched her cheeks, her trembling fingers touching the burnt, warped skin that had once been pale and firm and beautiful. Now was a face that children ran from, people cringed at the sight of.  
  
Elissa shook her head, her braids swinging as she did, "Then I don't want to. I want to stay with you." As though sensing Madame's sadness, she crawled up to the armrest of the chair Madame sat up and placed delicate kiss on her cheek and wrapped her little arms around her neck in a childlike hug.  
  
Eyes shining, Madame placed a hand on the side of Elissa's head and murmured, "Oh, Little Lissy, how proud your father would be."  
  
"For what?" she asked lightly, stretching her short thin legs down the length of the armrest and smoothed down the skirt of her blue dress with the velvet bow in the back.  
  
Looking at the child, Madame just shook her head, "Someday you will know. Would you like for me to read a story for you, then?"  
  
"Yes, yes!" A ball of energy now, Elissa shot off the armrest in a frightening leap and ran over to the bookshelf. Rising on her tip toes, her tiny fingers grabbed the bind of a book, the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration as she pulled. Triumphant, she brought the book back and climbed up onto Madame's lap.  
  
"Ah, Beauty and the Beast," she said, taking the book and opening to the first well worn page.  
  
"Uh huh! It's got a princess, and a castle, a witch and a beast who's really a prince! But SHE knows he's really a prince, doesn't she?"  
  
"No, sweetie. She knows he's special, not that he's a prince. She falls in love with him before she even knows that, remember?"  
  
"Oh..." the young girl said nodding, looking wise.  
  
Madame began to read from the book, Elissa hung on her every word of the story she loved so much and the afternoon seemed to fade away in the comfort and safety of another land in which people turned out to be good, bad people were punished and love prevailed. Through the window on that sunny day you could see the little child nestled in her guardian's arms and then the dream faded into a soft gray mist and then finally black.  
  
** ** ** ** ** **  
  
Elissa's eyes slowly opened and she saw the black. The violet around her pupils shrunk a little as she woke but the jade specks seemed to stand out even more against the blue. Blinking, she raised her head off of the window and realized the black came from the night outside, not her dream. A cloak slid down her shoulder when she moved her head and she looked down to see a large, warm –man's- cloak wrapped around her, blocking the chill. She looked up to see Erik. 


	9. Think of Me

**Chapter Nine: Think of Me**

Elissa looked up in wonder, "You came."

Erik continued to stand and cocked his head, "You thought I wasn't coming, Elissa?"

She sat up straighter, wrapping herself in the cloak, "No, I just couldn't find you when I was leaving."

Erik nodded but didn't say anything. He sat down next to her. "Why don't you try to get some more sleep; you've barely rested." Elissa wanted to argue, to talk but she knew she needed her strength for when she got to Ostrodo so she just nodded and laid her head on the window and closed her eyes.

Erik breathed a sigh of relief when, a couple minutes later, her breath became deep and even. He'd thought his little trip to the manager's office to drop off a note saying Elissa would be out of town and to grab some of her things for her wouldn't have taken as long as it did. And then he saw the note in her room. It was lying on her bed even though her door locks were secure and he'd stalked to room angrily looking for another entrance and finding none except for the mirror.

Finally, he saw the scratched on the locks from the outside and realized the lock had been picked. Swiping up the note, he turned with his cape swirling to read it. He read it a second time, his anger mounting.

_Little Lissy, _

_I can't say I'm sorry about the fire, because I am not. I'm only glad you weren't in there so I can have you now. It took me so long to get to you and I'm not letting you go now. Are you still mad about your father? Let me ask you something, Elissa : DO YOU THINK HE WAS ALIVE WHEN HE BURNED?_

"That son of a bitch," Erik growled, crumpling the note. He couldn't let Elissa see this. It would hurt her too bad and she was already bad enough after last night. So instead he slunk off into the dark hallway to find Madame Giry. He'd just turned down the hallway for her room when he saw a flash of movement to his left. He quickly flattened himself against the wall, hiding in the shadows, and watched a figure some closer and closer. He sucked in his breath a faint light shone off the person's face. It was Pierre…or rather Claude. He was sure of it, this was the same man he'd seen walking with Elissa that night they went to dinner. His fingers itched as Claude walked right past Erik, not seeing him. Two steps and a flick of the Punjab…but he resisted. For now.

He stalked the man down the hallway until they ended up in back in front of Elissa's room.

_Now what does he think he's doing?_

Looking both ways down the hallway and not seeing anyone, Claude pulled a small pick from his pocket and inserted it into the lock.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Erik said in a deep, cold voice.

Claude jumped, looking around and finding no one. "Damn ghosts," he muttered, his eyes looking nervously back and forth. Dropping the pick into his pocket, he turned and hurried away. Erik followed him, staying hidden, out of the opera house and to a grey rundown building two streets over where Claude disappeared inside. Erik spent some time finding all the entrances and sneaking around inside until he found a room in the basement that looked like Claude was living at the moment. Abandoned building…he was definitely hiding out. Erik heard a noise form the floor above and quickly exited the building and snuck back into the opera house.

He dropped the note to the managers on their desk and then hurried down to his lair. He was late; Elissa was already gone. Cursing, he hurried to the train station, lowering the hood of his cloak in to leave his mask in darkness. When he finally found Elissa, he felt a deep relief to see her safe, tucked away from the horror of her world right now.

After he'd locked the door, he went to sit across from Elissa when he saw her shivering and she sort of curled herself up. Immediately, he took off his thick cloak and wrapped it over her. One of her small hands crept out to clutch the edge of the cloak and covered his. His breath caught, staring at the overlapping of their hands, marveling at the beautiful difference between her tiny feminine hand and his larger, thicker skinned hand. He brought her hand up and kissed the palm, fascinated by the pleased expression that had crossed her sleeping face.

But now he felt her jerk sharply in her sleep. Her breath became labored and she started making small painful sounds. Alarmed, he shook her shoulders, "Elissa, wake up!"

She shot up in her seat. Her eyes opened wide and stared at him, unblinking. Without saying anything, she leaned against his and closed her eyes. Erik was confused but wrapped his arm around her so she'd be more comfortable. Was she even awake when she'd opened her eyes? Her body was curled up next to his and one of her hands clutched the edge of his cloak. He felt his stomach start to do something funny. Her vanilla scent was filling his lungs, his skin was warming and tingling where she leaned on him. He didn't understand this but he felt a lump forming in throat.

Her brow frowned in her sleep, "Erik…."

His arm around her tightened, "Yes?"

She shifted a little, muttered, "Make him go away…" and then was silent.

It was so childlike, so innocent. "I'll do it, child. For you I'll do it. He won't get away with this," he promised, swearing to himself that he would get rid of this man. He wouldn't lose Elissa. He refused to. He wasn't sure what it was exactly he was feeling for her, but he knew he cared for her strongly. She'd become a part of him, this strong yet fragile woman, and he'd be damned if he was going to lose her.

--------

That evening after the day long train ride (A/N: I have no idea how long the train ride would last, please bear with me), they stood on the doorstep on Madame de Loncrae's home. Before she knocked, Elissa chewed on her lip and tried to think of the best way to put this. She knew Erik would understand, though, so she turned to him.

"Madame de Loncrae was injured in the fire and still has scars. I know you'll understand, but I thought it better you not be surprised. So many people are just…." Elissa shook her head sadly, remembering the public torture Madame had to go through on a daily basis just to get to the market during those years after the fire before she was accepted.

Erik wondered what she meant, but nodded.

Madame de Loncrae answered the door after only one knock and, as she stood in the doorway, Erik's eyes widened only a fraction.

He had not been expecting this.


	10. You Always Knew

Hey guys. Sorry I haven't updated in close to forever. Things have been very hectic, but I do hope you enjoy this latest installment. It will give you more background to the story. R & R please!

**Chapter Ten: You Always Knew **

Madame de Loncrae wore a mask over most of her face. When she saw Elissa, though, she slipped it off and smiled at her. Most of her face had burn scars on it. The area over her right eye was warped partly over that eye. The skin looked shiny in some parts and she was missing a small patch of hair…but she didn't seem at all self conscious without the mask. Erik marveled at this silently.

"Elissa, what a wonderful surprise! What are you doing home so soon, though?" Madame exclaimed.

Elissa's smile was somewhat forced as she thought of what they had to talk about. "I took a weekend off to come see you. I needed…I need to talk with you about some matters." She saw Margaret glancing over at Erik curiously as added, "Margaret, this is…my good friend Erik."

Erik looked her in the eye, refusing to pay her burnt skin any special attention. He knew too much of people fixing in on what they saw rather than the person inside. "Bonjour, Madame," he said in his richly melodious voice.

Madame smiled at him warmly and shook his hand, "Bonjour, Erik. And, please, call me Margaret. Now, come in, come in!" She stood to the side to allow them to come in and then walked in front to lead them. Erik set the bags down in the hallway and followed behind Elissa, taking in the surroundings. The house was not lavish, but it was very warm and comfortable looking. Elegant wood paneling in the hallway, thick carpet in the rooms with decorated wallpaper, sturdy and shined furniture and the faint smell of vanilla potpourri.

Margaret sat in the armchair and Elissa and Erik sat down on the couch opposite her. Elissa reached for his hand and gripped it tightly, anxious about what she was about to tell Margaret. Erik squeezed it slightly to reassure her, and she sent him a trusting smile. Margaret watched this little exchange with a slight grin on her face.

"So, my child, what did you want to discuss? Oh, you can take that off if you'd like," turning her attention from Elissa to Erik and gesturing to his mask. His immediate reaction was to stiffen up but then he thought, 'Wouldn't she accept me? She has no problem loving Margaret and her face is badly scarred. Maybe she wouldn't care…yeah, because everyone ELSE hasn't.' He shook his head, "No, thank you. I'll keep it on."

"Very well. Now, Elissa…" she trailed off, waiting for her to speak.

Elissa took a deep breath. "Do you remember Claude Rouland? From the apartment building?"

Margaret looked surprised, "You remember about the apartment building? After all these years?"

"Yes, I finally remembered. But, Margaret, Claude Rouland, do you remember him?"

"Why, yes. That little boy that got in trouble for setting that fire. Oh, Elissa, it was so horrible. The thought that that little eight year old boy would set his uncle's bedroom on fire…" Margaret looked very sad from what she'd said.

"With his uncle in it!" Elissa was shocked.

Margaret took a deep breath before leaning back in her chair, regarding first Elissa and then Erik. "His uncle was in there sleeping when Claude set the fire. But he did not die in the fire. He got out."

Elissa gasped. "What do you mean- Claude thinks that he killed his uncle. And he's _happy_ about it! Why did no one tell him his uncle hadn't died?"

"Let me start from the beginning. Claude's father died when Claude was only five years old. He was sent to live with his uncle, Simon Rouland. Simon was an alcoholic and drank a horrible amount of alcohol. When he drank, he would beat Claude. His only escape from his uncle was when he would come and play with you, Elissa. He grew so attached to you; you were his hideaway from his uncle."

Elissa was shocked. "But…his uncle had seemed so nice to me. Claude never said anything about it, about his uncle doing that."

"His uncle was able to scare him into not saying a word. And then one day, his uncle beat him so badly…that was the day of your birthday. Your father went to see if Claude was coming and found him as he was, bruised and beaten. Your father was a good man but he did nothing at that moment about it as he was so shocked. He left and went back to your apartment. You went to the park to play and Claude found a can of gasoline, poured over his uncle's apartment, and lit the place on fire. Claude ran out thinking his uncle would die, but Simon woke up and went out the fire escape. The police took Claude away and Simon hid, knowing his nephew had meant to kill him for what he'd done."

"Where did Claude go? Where did Simon go? And why did you never tell me before?" It shook her to find out all this new information. Erik squeezed her hand lightly but said nothing, listening.

"They sent Claude to a regular orphanage because they couldn't convict a child of arson or murder. I don't know what happened at the orphanage, but I do know that in his teens he was sent to a mental hospital for several years. I'm not sure what he did to have them do that. Simon took the fire as a wake up call and went to the church for help. They sheltered him, prayed for him and rehabilitated him and now he lives in a monastery. I'm sorry, Elissa, that I did not tell you. It's just, you were so little and you had your whole life ahead of you. You didn't remember any of that horrible day and I thought that maybe that was best."

Elissa was silent for a minute, letting all this new information sink in. She looked back up at Margaret, "When I first remembered what he'd done, I wanted him dead for what he'd done because I was so angry. But that was just anger talking. Now that I hear about what a dreadful life he's had, I almost want to help him. Almost." She was quiet for a moment before she said, "Margaret, Claude is in Paris. He is _in_ Paris and came up with some fake name and found me."

Margaret looked horrified. "What?"

Elissa took a deep breath and told her everything that had been going on since the night that Claude showed up at her dressing room, pretending to be Pierre. Erik filled in where he could and then told of what had happened the night they were leaving for Ostrada when he had found the note and seen Claude in the hallway and then followed him to his hideout. Elissa looked at him, "What note?"

Erik looked at her and shook his head, "It's not of importance. What is important is that we find a way to rid ourselves of him. I don't want him around you."

"Nor I," Margaret jumped in. "He must have come looking for you the minute he got out of that mental hospital. As a child he was disturbed enough to burn down a building; who knows what he is capable of now after being locked away in that horrid place for years." A pause. "Does he know where you are now?"

Erik spoke, "I left a note with the managers but all it said was that she would be out of town, not where exactly she was going."

Margaret nodded, "That is good."

Elissa let out a small yawn, covering her mouth. "Excuse me, but I am very tired from the train. Margaret, is it alright if I take a nap in my old room?"

"It will never be your old room, Elissa, but always your room. Of course it is alright if you take a nap. It will give me a chance to get to know your friend Erik."

Erik's eyes darted from Elissa, to Margaret and then back to Elissa. He felt trapped but braced himself. He needed to talk to Margaret to discus what needed to be done about Claude. He knew what he would want to do, but did not think that Elissa would appreciate him killing her childhood friend. He should ask her; maybe he still could.

Elissa smiled at him as she left the room and he watched as she went down the hallway, grabbed a bag, and then turned and climbed the staircase. Erik turned to see Margaret watching him with a tiny smile on her face.

"Chess?" she offered. Erik nodded and the two went into the other room to discuss Claude and what to do over chess.


End file.
